Letters to Marileen
by Samuel Sama
Summary: It was difficult for Handwing to understand why he did the things he did. He often didn't know why he had neither the ambition nor the motivation to change & plodded through life with a perpetually bitter expression because of it. Smoke flowed from his mouth & nose in an attempt to cloud his dizzying thoughts, to ignore the growing knot in his stomach left by acrimonious actions...


It was difficult for Handwing to understand why he did the things he did. He often didn't know why he had neither the ambition nor the motivation to change and plodded through life with a perpetually bitter expression because of it. Smoke flowed from his mouth and nose in an attempt to cloud his dizzying thoughts, to ignore the growing knot in his stomach left by acrimonious actions. It was how he'd spent his whole life, with one step forward and several steps back. He snubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot, wondering how it seemed the only thing he could manage to do properly was get high — _really_ high. 

This trait of his was how he found himself wandering away from home. He knew of a great place to get what he wanted, for relatively cheap. Not that he cared too much about the price — it wasn't his money and he laughed through his nose at the thought of him actually getting a job and being functional. No, the only reason he even cared to walk to his dealer was because he had the best shit and wasn't too far away from the city. Two miles for cheap drugs; two miles for the best drugs he could find. A total round trip of four miles just to get high. He sighed heavily, wondering what it was that had to be wrong with him. 

The territory, just a rather small town separated from everywhere else on all sides by woods, consisted mostly of plain humans. Handwing was lucky said humans were generally agreeable, if not a rough sort of bunch. A few of the humans were donned in hoodies that covered their faces, and others in tattoos that ravished their bodies, and others still looked like relatively normal — if not completely blazed — people. Most of them didn't even look at Handwing, though several of them recognized him and gave him a lazy wave. 

"Yo, Handwing," said the canid with a toothy grin and a flick of his unkempt bushy tail, "here fer ya' fix?"  
"Yeah, man," Handwing fiddled with the money in his hoodie pocket.  
"Whatcha lookin' fer this time?"  
"Just the cheapest shit you got." 

Indeed, it even looked like the cheapest shit; it was dull in color and almost felt like vitriolic sandpaper between his clawed fingers, but the smell was by far the worst part. Even so, he got what he paid for, and with Vilkas's low income he could hardly complain. 

His heavy body and dragging feet made it difficult for him to appear alert — and unfortunately looking tired always ran the risk of him being jumped. It took all his strength to continue walking without just collapsing into a nap on the dirt road, in spite of the hot sun. He tried to get his mind off of his tired body. Handwing thought back to Vilkas, who was surely getting worried over his absence — the last time he'd been gone so long, Vilkas berated him immediately upon his return. 

"Where were you?" he asked in a harsh tone, "you didn't leave a note or say anything before you left."  
Handwing just rolled his eyes, walking past him and plopping onto the couch.  
"Why must you be such an inconsiderate prick?" Vilkas said with an exacerbated sigh as he, too, fell onto the couch.  
"Why are you such a nosy, neurotic douche?" Handwing retorted, crossing his arms and turning away from him, "get off my ass, will ya?"  
Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose, hunching over in his seat, "whatever…"  
It was one of the many times, one of the very many, that Handwing wondered why indeed he acted so inconsiderate, so awful to the only person in life that tolerated him. 

He looked up at the blue sky, quickly trying to push those thoughts out of his head. He just wanted to make it through the day without beating himself up inside, for once. It was clear as day just how eager he was to get back home and get high; high enough to enjoy the nirvana and not dwell any longer on his life. 

"Don't let her get away again!" 

Handwing's pointed ears perked up at this. There was a pain filled cry from behind him but before he could look to see what was going on, a woman flew past his peripherals and hit the ground with a loud thud. She struggled to stand, body trembling as she attempted to push herself back up, and she was clearly exhausted as though he'd been on the run for a while. Handwing turned to find three men chasing her down, one of which was carrying a bloody billy club. His body froze immediately, their quadrupedal alternate forms rushing toward him faster than he could ever hope to keep up. He could only stand between them and the woman, his head sharply pulsating in adrenaline. 

Before he could react, one of the men, a felid covered in a tangled mess of hair and owner of a bloodied snout, leapt at him. He felt a forceful hit as he was delivered a punch to the stomach. Just as he began to keel over, another felid slammed into him from the side with all of his weight. Handwing heard a sickening crack come from his body. The first man ignored him as he fell to the ground, clutching his arm in pain. The agony shot up along his shoulder and down through his fingers, momentarily disorienting him. 

He didn't see anything that went on, only heard some shuffling and grunting, as well as a few hits connecting against soft flesh. A loud and deafening roar filled the air, sounding like a mix of human and animal letting out a vicious war cry. Three screams followed and, just as suddenly as it began, it all went silent. 

He was slowly able to turn himself around, his quivering body making it all the more difficult. Three decapitated bodies surrounded a large, hulking beast; a conglomeration of all sorts of animal and humanoid parts mismatched into one being. The scene stole his breath away and his mouth fell agape. It turned its boar-like face toward him, its stout nose crinkling softly as it smiled. Its purple eyes glowed, staring into his, but they soon began to dull before the beast came crashing to the dirt road, resuming its original form as the woman. He slowly made his way to his feet, stumbling toward her. His breaths were sharp and uneven. The shock of it all was setting in. 

Handwing didn't know what to do. Should he just leave her? Could even he be that heartless? He tried to run away, but his feet felt stuck to the ground and his heart was pounding out of his chest. His whole body was shaking incessantly and his mind began to race. Thoughts flew past him — telling him to run, telling him to get out of there before more showed up, telling him that leaving her there would be shitty, even for him — until his mind finally rested on Vilkas. Surely he would be able to do _something_. Handwing gulped hard, staring at the unconscious woman. He turned to run off but stopped himself, unsure if he should leave her in the middle of the road. Sloppily, he dragged the woman's body, one-handed, off the path, nudging her into a bush and unceremoniously stuffing her scaled tail in with her. Once again he stopped to stare, breathing quickly before he finally began to dart down the road, screaming for Vilkas. 

**Author's Note:** I don't claim to own this world or concept; Handwing and Vilkas are characters of OMGitsSomething/KyttiBat. This is only a fanfiction of his world with my fancharacter featured. If you're interested in this, check out his gallery on DeviantART! (FYI: It's pretty fuckin' awesome.)

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